Baldness and Irony

Getting out of the car to make a visit I was suddenly aware of a very loud buzzing.  Some flying creature had managed to get itself caught up in my hair, so with a flick of my head I swung my hair in an attempt to free the beast.

The buzzing just got louder.

Car door still open I stood in the middle of the quiet suburban road, bent over, and with my hair now hanging loose and shook my head.

The buzzing continued and was sounding somewhat agitated, something was well and truly stuck.

One more flick and I felt the tickle of an insects feet on my forehead.

Then I did – what I know you should never do but I did it anyway because I wasn’t thinking straight and panicked.  I started dancing about like some mad woman in the middle of the street flicking my hair by tossing my head and using my hands.  Then it happened a sharp prick just above my right eyebrow followed very quickly by a throbbing across my forehead and down my right cheek.  I might have squealed – I know hard to imagine but then again I did panic so it is highly possible.

By now ‘G’ who I was on my way to visit had noticed some lunatic jumping outside her house and making an educated guess was approaching with a can of fly killer.  I am pretty sure it was the owner of the sting not me she was trying to get with the half can of fly killer she then proceeded to shower me with!  The fact that my hair didn’t stay sticking straight up like some mohican suggests fly spray isn’t a suitable alternative to hair spray, if you were wondering.

I wasn’t sure at this point what had stung me a quick look in the wing mirror told me that a sting was now attached to me rather than the bee it should have been attached to.

We got into ‘G’s’ home and I managed to squeeze the sting out – I got a gold star from Damien later for that – then put some vinegar on it.  Shaken and stirred I sat in ‘G’s’ living room drinking water and trying to pretend nothing had really happened.  My eyebrow was sore but I wasn’t overly concerned, we chatted and laughed.  I declined the biscuits and the wine, then relented and had a jaffa cake (they are like the Borgs to me resistance to them is futile).  Then the pins and needles started (just like the kind you get when the anaesthetic from the dentist starts to wear off), my heart started to race, a quick touch of the site caused pain to shoot around and behind my right eye.  Never having been stung by a bee before, and being aware of all kinds of horror stories about bee stings, I thought it wise to make my apologies and go seek some professional advice.

At the local chemist Damien the pharmacist, took my pulse, asked me some questions and decided that I wasn’t having anything more than a mild allergic reaction so gave me a pill and water and told be to stay put for ten minutes, after which he came checked my pulse again and told me I could go.

Now back home I have a half puffed up eye and a very tender right side to my face, but at least I know I am not seriously allergic to bee stings.

What you may be wondering has all that to do with baldness and irony.  Well if I had been bald then the bee wouldn’t have got caught up in my hair in the first instance; and I posted a picture of that bees distant cousin on this blog not that many days ago because I was enchanted by its beauty.  I will never look at bees the same again, actually I can’t at the moment with my eyelid hooding over!


2 thoughts on “Baldness and Irony

  1. The irony is that the aggressor possibly *was* a honey-bee! Bumblebees rarely sting unless provoked. Though, come to think of it…

    Anyway, (virtual) tea and (real) sympathy.


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